April Week Three
warmonger
It was definitely possible for a horse to swagger. Swagger was the display of sheer power and confidence, of strength and ability to take on any challenge and face it down. Swagger was also the ability to back up your word with the strength and domination of a charging bull. Swagger was Casualty of War. Justin and Malcolm eyed the proud black horse eyes filled with awe. The son of Man O' War stalked at the end of the lead rope held by Ripley Marsh. The auburn haired woman commanded total respect from the colt, small and slim as she was. She ran the place like the kindest drill sergeant you'd ever met. Her green eyes flashed when the colt bowed his head and pranced like someone about to test the limits.
"Don't even think about doing it, Sultan. I swear." The colt flared his nostrils, pawed furiously, but stood still, pondering why he bothered to listen to this shrimp of a human. Ripley cocked a brow at the guys who stood watching her with easy-going eyes. "Justin get a leg up so we can get this guy moving. He's tired of waiting around."
Mal rushed to help Justin, cupping his hands for the boy to use it to mount up. In a second, the lithe boy was settling in the saddle, aboard his proud, energetic horse. Sultan's throat vibrated with a commanding rumble as his ears and eyes found his day-in-and-day-out victim. Justin yanked on the reins when the colt threatened to bolt in order to punish his complete opposite. Justin kept his seat from experience, but his eyes were full of the gleaming flame that was Spotlight Pride.
The son of Deathflash's Pride glimmered like a candle as he stepped out of the shadows of the two year old barn beneath Reese Balling Jones. He'd had a terrific early season and had been an iron horse throughout. It was by Ripley's decision that the colt had been pulled for a couple of months for rest and relaxation. R&R had basically turned into galloping everyday, in the morning and at night. He was tireless and possibly the fittest two year old in the string. His muscles were lean beneath his well-groomed hide. Reese felt as though she was sitting aboard a ruby diamond, elegant and fiery all at once. The colt turned his head sideways, analyzed Sultan with slightly nervous eyes. He hadn't galloped with the black marauder in a couple months, had actually relaxed. To see his old enemy, only renewed his annoyance for the other horse. The colt pinned his ears, eyes rolling white in disgust. He clearly hadn't forgotten.
"And on that note," Ripley chuckled. "Let's head down to the track."
Reese could feel the tension in her colt. It was winding up tighter and tighter, especially when Casualty Of War threatened an attack. Spotlight Pride was not a coward, but he did not understand outright meanness. The colt glared furiously in the direction of the black horse, only relaxing when he stepped foot on the turf track. He put plenty of distance between himself and the black horse, sighing in relief. Reese grinned as the colt clicked off his gallop at a good clip, legs well beneath him as he loped up the first hillside. Casualty of War followed, a shadow stalking the light. Justin wrapped his hands in the colt's mane, thrilling at the power that threatened beneath him. Casualty of War hadn't been his favorite mount to date, but the horse had brilliance just about under wraps. Alone, the horse could gallop as he pleased, tracking Spotlight Pride's brutally fast speed. He had no choice to wait to pounce. Spotlight Pride was just faster than anything in the two year old crop, at least right out of the gate.
Reese reminded herself to breathe as the magnificent horse sped over the track with great bounding strides. He carried his head and tail high, proud of himself for outfooting his most-loathed enemy. Pride was a champion and he would prove it as the season went on. She loved her fleeting colt, loved his nervous nature, loved his brilliant turn of foot. But his best quality was courage under fire. When Sultan came at them in the final three furlongs, Pride would not go down without dealing some blows. He was the hardest horse to outfoot and nearly as hard to grind down at the end. She leaned close as he dashed over the hill, lean machine that he was. He was something out of this world, something impressive for all of his anxiousness.
Sultan moved up on his own when he remembered just what type of horse he was dealing with. The victim that never gave up. Justin's face was marked by the wind and the sharp stabs of mane in his face as the colt picked it up a notch. The three furlong run was just over this hillside. Justin leaned close, a white smile parting his face. The colt was ready. Pride's ears flicked up ahead and Justin knew that colt was ready as well.
Pride did not hold back as he leaped violently down the hillside to the flat turf. He bowed his head low, lengthened his body so that he nearly ran parallel to the ground. He surged across the turf, kicking clods up in his wake. Justin felt his colt falter when more than a couple caught him in the chest. Sultan displayed his agility by leaping sideways out of the chestnut colt's wake. He thundered forward, fired up from being hit. The black and the chestnut engaged two furlongs out, delicate heads level with each other. Each had their ears locked in their red and black manes. Neither would give in this time. It had been so. If one of them gave up, something was wrong. Pride clung to the lead, spurting away as he hit different gears, furious when Casualty of War met him step for step.
Now Sultan was the annoyance. Sultan bared his teeth around the bridle, would have landed a harsh bite if Justin hadn't corrected him so fiercely. The black horse spurted sideways, recorrected himself to once again take on Spotlight Pride. His blazed with fire and hatred as he surged to even ground with Pride. Together, they rolled up the hillside with Sultan just nabbing Pride in the end. It had taken a hell of an effort and Sultan was found a little wanting in the gallop out. The black colt puffed himself up as the lean chestnut ran away from them. He was proud of himself for taking down his counterpart, but his opinion had changed where Pride was concerned. No longer was Pride a victim, but an arch-nemesis.
Justin patted the colt's neck, staring after the speedy Spotlight Pride. He might have been defeated by them today, but both of them would be extremely hard to beat in their respective runs in the Follow The Hoofprints Series and beyond.
"Don't even think about doing it, Sultan. I swear." The colt flared his nostrils, pawed furiously, but stood still, pondering why he bothered to listen to this shrimp of a human. Ripley cocked a brow at the guys who stood watching her with easy-going eyes. "Justin get a leg up so we can get this guy moving. He's tired of waiting around."
Mal rushed to help Justin, cupping his hands for the boy to use it to mount up. In a second, the lithe boy was settling in the saddle, aboard his proud, energetic horse. Sultan's throat vibrated with a commanding rumble as his ears and eyes found his day-in-and-day-out victim. Justin yanked on the reins when the colt threatened to bolt in order to punish his complete opposite. Justin kept his seat from experience, but his eyes were full of the gleaming flame that was Spotlight Pride.
The son of Deathflash's Pride glimmered like a candle as he stepped out of the shadows of the two year old barn beneath Reese Balling Jones. He'd had a terrific early season and had been an iron horse throughout. It was by Ripley's decision that the colt had been pulled for a couple of months for rest and relaxation. R&R had basically turned into galloping everyday, in the morning and at night. He was tireless and possibly the fittest two year old in the string. His muscles were lean beneath his well-groomed hide. Reese felt as though she was sitting aboard a ruby diamond, elegant and fiery all at once. The colt turned his head sideways, analyzed Sultan with slightly nervous eyes. He hadn't galloped with the black marauder in a couple months, had actually relaxed. To see his old enemy, only renewed his annoyance for the other horse. The colt pinned his ears, eyes rolling white in disgust. He clearly hadn't forgotten.
"And on that note," Ripley chuckled. "Let's head down to the track."
Reese could feel the tension in her colt. It was winding up tighter and tighter, especially when Casualty Of War threatened an attack. Spotlight Pride was not a coward, but he did not understand outright meanness. The colt glared furiously in the direction of the black horse, only relaxing when he stepped foot on the turf track. He put plenty of distance between himself and the black horse, sighing in relief. Reese grinned as the colt clicked off his gallop at a good clip, legs well beneath him as he loped up the first hillside. Casualty of War followed, a shadow stalking the light. Justin wrapped his hands in the colt's mane, thrilling at the power that threatened beneath him. Casualty of War hadn't been his favorite mount to date, but the horse had brilliance just about under wraps. Alone, the horse could gallop as he pleased, tracking Spotlight Pride's brutally fast speed. He had no choice to wait to pounce. Spotlight Pride was just faster than anything in the two year old crop, at least right out of the gate.
Reese reminded herself to breathe as the magnificent horse sped over the track with great bounding strides. He carried his head and tail high, proud of himself for outfooting his most-loathed enemy. Pride was a champion and he would prove it as the season went on. She loved her fleeting colt, loved his nervous nature, loved his brilliant turn of foot. But his best quality was courage under fire. When Sultan came at them in the final three furlongs, Pride would not go down without dealing some blows. He was the hardest horse to outfoot and nearly as hard to grind down at the end. She leaned close as he dashed over the hill, lean machine that he was. He was something out of this world, something impressive for all of his anxiousness.
Sultan moved up on his own when he remembered just what type of horse he was dealing with. The victim that never gave up. Justin's face was marked by the wind and the sharp stabs of mane in his face as the colt picked it up a notch. The three furlong run was just over this hillside. Justin leaned close, a white smile parting his face. The colt was ready. Pride's ears flicked up ahead and Justin knew that colt was ready as well.
Pride did not hold back as he leaped violently down the hillside to the flat turf. He bowed his head low, lengthened his body so that he nearly ran parallel to the ground. He surged across the turf, kicking clods up in his wake. Justin felt his colt falter when more than a couple caught him in the chest. Sultan displayed his agility by leaping sideways out of the chestnut colt's wake. He thundered forward, fired up from being hit. The black and the chestnut engaged two furlongs out, delicate heads level with each other. Each had their ears locked in their red and black manes. Neither would give in this time. It had been so. If one of them gave up, something was wrong. Pride clung to the lead, spurting away as he hit different gears, furious when Casualty of War met him step for step.
Now Sultan was the annoyance. Sultan bared his teeth around the bridle, would have landed a harsh bite if Justin hadn't corrected him so fiercely. The black horse spurted sideways, recorrected himself to once again take on Spotlight Pride. His blazed with fire and hatred as he surged to even ground with Pride. Together, they rolled up the hillside with Sultan just nabbing Pride in the end. It had taken a hell of an effort and Sultan was found a little wanting in the gallop out. The black colt puffed himself up as the lean chestnut ran away from them. He was proud of himself for taking down his counterpart, but his opinion had changed where Pride was concerned. No longer was Pride a victim, but an arch-nemesis.
Justin patted the colt's neck, staring after the speedy Spotlight Pride. He might have been defeated by them today, but both of them would be extremely hard to beat in their respective runs in the Follow The Hoofprints Series and beyond.
devilish beauty
Originally Written at Green Horse Fields 4/21/14
It wasn't a common occurrence for a racing stable to have a Turf Triple Crown winner working out with a Turf Triple Candidate and a Turf Triple Tiara Candidate. In fact, it had never happened before because Witch Creek Stable was the only barn to ever have a Turf Triple Crown winner. Green Horse Fields had not seen the likes of Bella Luna since the end of February and it had indeed been a while since the fantastic gray mare had raced at The Wire. Now she was coming back off of a short layoff to remind everyone that while the likes of Calamity Queen, Fleet Majesty and Ode To Glory were stealing big races, the Queen had not retired just yet. Ripley was eager to get the Sea Struck mare back on track for her final season as a racehorse with Witch Creek. She'd been tearing down the barn back home for weeks. The King George XV Stakes was up first at The Wire.
Ripley shook out of her stupor just as a fierce shove propelled her forward into the stable wall. Her green eyes flashes with annoyance, but dimmed considerably when she faced her attacker. The Devil's Hourglass stood with her eyes blazing and muscles thrumming beneath her well-conditioned body. The dark bay filly's white star gleamed amid the dark mane upon a head that was raised with belligerence. The stout filly looked every inch the fighter she was, the fighter she was becoming. She hadn't tasted victory since her first start that season and was looking to do some serious damage in the Kentucky Open. Ten furlongs waited with the finish line calling her name. Hourglass was bred in the bone to be something fierce and mighty. She had been the top two year old of any sex and surface; her lack of wins did not discount her talent any. She was as fierce as she was talented, a storm awaiting her opponents.
"Yeah, yeah. I didn't forget you. No one can forget you."
"She says otherwise," Maggie chimed in from aboard Paranormal Hunter. Ripley was loaded with opinionated turf fillies it seemed, even with Prima Donna out for the season. She swept her eyes over Para's big body, shaking her head at the gross weight that the bay carried. The Flash Limits filly had never been pretty, but boy was she one of the best closers in the three year old division. She could run into a fast or slow pace with such a shocking turn of foot for such a big horse. In a matter of yards, the front runner turned from a sure thing into battling for their victories. At least this season, those front runners efforts to stave of Para's kick had been nearly futile.
Reese watched Maggie and Ripley's exchange with lazy brown eyes. These upstarters had nothing on Bella Luna. The gray mare had filled out in her time off, time she desperately needed after a heavy three year old campaign. She looked every inch the proud horse she was. She stared beyond Paranormal Hunter and Hourglass, looking at something that was unknown to her rider. Reese knew she was thinking of the track. Most of Bella Luna's greatest victories had come over this track, from the Turf Triple Crown to the Breeders' Cup Mile. It was great to be back home.
Ripley led the way out to the track, smiling at the attitude that Hourglass flashed in the direction of the reporters. Witch Creek was getting plenty of attention simply because of Bella Luna. The gray mare pranced alongside the heavy bay fillies, sleek and elegant and mature. She was showing them up a bit, but once the workout hit, Bella Luna would fade a bit. All attention was focused on The Devil's Hourglass and some on Paranormal Hunter. The Turf Triple Crown, at least until the Kentucky Derby, was the center of the media's attention.
Hourglass broke off like a rocket when she hit the turf track, setting a torrid pace that only she could get away with. The stoutly built filly turned into poetry in motion, tail flying back like a camp, mane whipping like flames. Ripley clung to the reins, squinting even with the goggles, knowing that Hourglass would settle down beyond the first furlong. Seven furlong workout today on tap for these reporters. They would know everything they needed to know about Witch Creek's turfers.
Paranormal Hunter strolled along confidently as Hourglass, followed by Bella Luna, streaked away. She was a slug at the start, a fact that Maggie had long-since gotten used to. The heavy filly needed time to get going and when she got going she just cruised. Maggie leaned into the filly's long mane, a smile touching her lips as the fractions clicked off. Hourglass could go forever and Bella Luna had proven her stamina capabilities last season. Para could run them both down though.
Bella Luna tracked Hourglass brilliantly on the outside, her long frame spread out over the turf like she was born to it. Reese practically giggled with excitement, thrilling at being back aboard her prized horse. Bella Luna was class to a "T," the best horse hands down that Reese had gotten aboard. She moved confidently down the backstretch, eyes focused on Hourglass. The Touch Up granddaughter had finally calmed down enough to gallop along at her high cruising speed. Reese found it so weird that the bay filly could become a mid-pack runner or closer in a race, but a need the lead type in the morning.
Hourglass set the bar high as she launched into the final turn of the seven furlong workout. Clods of turf flew back behind her, just missing a chasing Bella Luna. The proud bay filly was more than happy to be cheeky to the older gray mare. Ripley crouched aboard her withers, knowing that Bella Luna and Para were gunning for her filly.
Para had long since begun her charge, rumbling up to Bella's side and moving in tandem with the gray mare. Bella pinned her ears, furious to be caught between the younger horses. She rolled right along with Paranormal Hunter not giving the Tiara contender an inch. Hourglass cocked her head to the outside, teeth bared to just miss grasping Bella's headstall. The gray pushed on between the fillies, eyes wild with excitement and eagerness to crush them.
Ripley threw the reins down on Hourglass' thick neck, thrilled at finding the next couple of gears. The bay reasserted herself, rushing furiously to Bella's side. She was tough as nails and would not go down with a white flag.
Paranormal Hunter bounded furiously down the center of the track, finding Hourglass to be tough and Bella Luna to be even tougher. She was grinding them down, her big long strides overpowering their shorter ones, but somehow their speed was quicker, their agility more brilliant. She sucked in a giant breath, launching her bid in the final hundred yards.
Three across the wire with only a hair between them. The cameras would ultimately find that Bella Luna had held on with a dead-heat between Para and Hourglass. Whatever the winner, the time for all three had been sizzling. Seven furlongs in 1:21 2/5 was beyond brilliant. The more fascinating part was the fact that all three continued on for a strong gallop out. A warning had been issued by Witch Creek Stable. Whoever would beat them would not have an easy task.
It wasn't a common occurrence for a racing stable to have a Turf Triple Crown winner working out with a Turf Triple Candidate and a Turf Triple Tiara Candidate. In fact, it had never happened before because Witch Creek Stable was the only barn to ever have a Turf Triple Crown winner. Green Horse Fields had not seen the likes of Bella Luna since the end of February and it had indeed been a while since the fantastic gray mare had raced at The Wire. Now she was coming back off of a short layoff to remind everyone that while the likes of Calamity Queen, Fleet Majesty and Ode To Glory were stealing big races, the Queen had not retired just yet. Ripley was eager to get the Sea Struck mare back on track for her final season as a racehorse with Witch Creek. She'd been tearing down the barn back home for weeks. The King George XV Stakes was up first at The Wire.
Ripley shook out of her stupor just as a fierce shove propelled her forward into the stable wall. Her green eyes flashes with annoyance, but dimmed considerably when she faced her attacker. The Devil's Hourglass stood with her eyes blazing and muscles thrumming beneath her well-conditioned body. The dark bay filly's white star gleamed amid the dark mane upon a head that was raised with belligerence. The stout filly looked every inch the fighter she was, the fighter she was becoming. She hadn't tasted victory since her first start that season and was looking to do some serious damage in the Kentucky Open. Ten furlongs waited with the finish line calling her name. Hourglass was bred in the bone to be something fierce and mighty. She had been the top two year old of any sex and surface; her lack of wins did not discount her talent any. She was as fierce as she was talented, a storm awaiting her opponents.
"Yeah, yeah. I didn't forget you. No one can forget you."
"She says otherwise," Maggie chimed in from aboard Paranormal Hunter. Ripley was loaded with opinionated turf fillies it seemed, even with Prima Donna out for the season. She swept her eyes over Para's big body, shaking her head at the gross weight that the bay carried. The Flash Limits filly had never been pretty, but boy was she one of the best closers in the three year old division. She could run into a fast or slow pace with such a shocking turn of foot for such a big horse. In a matter of yards, the front runner turned from a sure thing into battling for their victories. At least this season, those front runners efforts to stave of Para's kick had been nearly futile.
Reese watched Maggie and Ripley's exchange with lazy brown eyes. These upstarters had nothing on Bella Luna. The gray mare had filled out in her time off, time she desperately needed after a heavy three year old campaign. She looked every inch the proud horse she was. She stared beyond Paranormal Hunter and Hourglass, looking at something that was unknown to her rider. Reese knew she was thinking of the track. Most of Bella Luna's greatest victories had come over this track, from the Turf Triple Crown to the Breeders' Cup Mile. It was great to be back home.
Ripley led the way out to the track, smiling at the attitude that Hourglass flashed in the direction of the reporters. Witch Creek was getting plenty of attention simply because of Bella Luna. The gray mare pranced alongside the heavy bay fillies, sleek and elegant and mature. She was showing them up a bit, but once the workout hit, Bella Luna would fade a bit. All attention was focused on The Devil's Hourglass and some on Paranormal Hunter. The Turf Triple Crown, at least until the Kentucky Derby, was the center of the media's attention.
Hourglass broke off like a rocket when she hit the turf track, setting a torrid pace that only she could get away with. The stoutly built filly turned into poetry in motion, tail flying back like a camp, mane whipping like flames. Ripley clung to the reins, squinting even with the goggles, knowing that Hourglass would settle down beyond the first furlong. Seven furlong workout today on tap for these reporters. They would know everything they needed to know about Witch Creek's turfers.
Paranormal Hunter strolled along confidently as Hourglass, followed by Bella Luna, streaked away. She was a slug at the start, a fact that Maggie had long-since gotten used to. The heavy filly needed time to get going and when she got going she just cruised. Maggie leaned into the filly's long mane, a smile touching her lips as the fractions clicked off. Hourglass could go forever and Bella Luna had proven her stamina capabilities last season. Para could run them both down though.
Bella Luna tracked Hourglass brilliantly on the outside, her long frame spread out over the turf like she was born to it. Reese practically giggled with excitement, thrilling at being back aboard her prized horse. Bella Luna was class to a "T," the best horse hands down that Reese had gotten aboard. She moved confidently down the backstretch, eyes focused on Hourglass. The Touch Up granddaughter had finally calmed down enough to gallop along at her high cruising speed. Reese found it so weird that the bay filly could become a mid-pack runner or closer in a race, but a need the lead type in the morning.
Hourglass set the bar high as she launched into the final turn of the seven furlong workout. Clods of turf flew back behind her, just missing a chasing Bella Luna. The proud bay filly was more than happy to be cheeky to the older gray mare. Ripley crouched aboard her withers, knowing that Bella Luna and Para were gunning for her filly.
Para had long since begun her charge, rumbling up to Bella's side and moving in tandem with the gray mare. Bella pinned her ears, furious to be caught between the younger horses. She rolled right along with Paranormal Hunter not giving the Tiara contender an inch. Hourglass cocked her head to the outside, teeth bared to just miss grasping Bella's headstall. The gray pushed on between the fillies, eyes wild with excitement and eagerness to crush them.
Ripley threw the reins down on Hourglass' thick neck, thrilled at finding the next couple of gears. The bay reasserted herself, rushing furiously to Bella's side. She was tough as nails and would not go down with a white flag.
Paranormal Hunter bounded furiously down the center of the track, finding Hourglass to be tough and Bella Luna to be even tougher. She was grinding them down, her big long strides overpowering their shorter ones, but somehow their speed was quicker, their agility more brilliant. She sucked in a giant breath, launching her bid in the final hundred yards.
Three across the wire with only a hair between them. The cameras would ultimately find that Bella Luna had held on with a dead-heat between Para and Hourglass. Whatever the winner, the time for all three had been sizzling. Seven furlongs in 1:21 2/5 was beyond brilliant. The more fascinating part was the fact that all three continued on for a strong gallop out. A warning had been issued by Witch Creek Stable. Whoever would beat them would not have an easy task.